Billions and Billions of Dollars (Still Not Enough)

Fucking billionaires, man - I'm a big fan.

Or, more specifically - a big fan of shows about billionaires. My secret vice.

Billions has been around for 6 seasons. I was aware of it and interested, but never got around to checking it out.

Until I flew to Nashville last October. I didn't want to be like Puddy during the flight, so I dialed up a random episode of Billions to occupy me. Loved it.

Since then I have devoted 64 hours of my life to this show. Five seasons of 12 episodes per, at an hour a whack, plus 4 more episodes from season 6. 

Alarming? I used to think so, but I have changed my position on that. I enjoy the show. It provides escape for me from the crushing burdens of Joe-ness. It is intelligent. It is witty.

It makes me happy.

I also watch Succession. 3 seasons, 29 episodes in total. I just watched episode 4 of season 3, so I have devoted 24 hours of my life to this show.

Love it. It has more of a satirical bent to it, but it is also intelligent and witty. I enjoy it. It allows me to escape what passes for "reality".

Here's where my sickness comes in. I sit here and think "why can't my life be like this?" Understand, I don't need to commute by helicopter or buy myself $2,500 bottles of whiskey. What I fantasize about is the freedom.

Imagine a life with no financial pressures. This is the ultimate goal of every living creature. No fucking worries.

Do you think I am ecstatic to own a 2020 Hyundai Elantra? I am happy, yes - I drive a reliable car with all of today's typical bells and whistles. But I really want to drive a brand new Lincoln. I was born to drive a brand new Lincoln.

I lied. Actually I would like to commute by helicopter. 

When Phil and I traveled to Nashville he had special arrangements for the flight down. We boarded with the first group. Had first access to the overhead bins. Sat in a section with only two seats across as opposed to three in the rest of the plane. We each got a free drink. We were the first to leave the plane.

The return trip sucked. No special arrangements. We were in the last group to board. Had to fight for convenient overhead bin space. Three seats wide, which sucks - too goddamn tight. No free booze. Last to leave the plane.

I haven't flown in many decades. I got a little special treatment on one flight and suddenly I am a fucking diva.

Yeah, man - I want a 30 room mansion. Infinity pool. Limos and drivers. Helicopters. Embarassing quantities of top shelf booze at any price. Servants. Private planes. Easy access to exclusive restaurants, with no reservations. Front row seats everywhere to everything.

I want to see a look of awe in the eyes of commoners who come across me in public.

I do want all this.

I better get my ass in gear.